Nature Walk.

I'll tell you what you need to do as soon as possible:
Nature Walk.

That's right. 3rd grade style. Ben, my boyfriend, and I ventured on one yesterday and I forgot how gorgeous this city is. A must, however, is music. We hooked up both headphones to the good 'ol iphone and walked to the beats that became the soundtrack. And here I thought LA was only good for smog and celebrities. Apparently, in fact, Griffith Park is the size of Hollywood. I was awe-struck as we strolled over a bridge and through the towering trees and plant life, that this has been around and I have yet to partake.

Forget you, Runyon Canyon, with your dirty slippery hills and panting dogs running amuck. Hello Griffith, my newfound love of Los Angeles.

Happiness Is:

 

The Joy of The World Wide Web.

My eye is twitching again. Perhaps it is because I was wided-eyed and bushy tailed circa 4am. I hustled out of bed round 7am and proceeded to my photoshoot. It's dress up for grownups, really. It's all fun and games 'till I get home and every part of me shuts down from exhaustion and hunger. I was trying to understand why this is, and have decided it is because I can usually schlep by on my bad jokes and one dimple. But when doing this I am hyper aware I need to look cooler than I am. Mask the inner-nerd and shoot fire through my eyes into the camera. And to suck in for theloveofgodsohelpmenow. I found myself in profound pain upon my return 7 hours later, and have now given in to all temptation to stay in tonight.

I should go to bed but I've discovered too many jems online that I cannot resist. The internet is my playground. And I shall embrace it.

(Once I learn photoshop this would have my face cut/pasted in it)
*Note just tried doing it, and I failed and then realized this might be the most unproductive thing I've done all day. Fine, all hour.

First being, James Franco's acting technique. Indulge yourself, and learn a thing or two.

Acting With James Franco Episode 1: "Sense Memory" from James Franco

And then:

Acting with James Franco Episode 2: "Green Screen" from James Franco

And so you are already sitting down so why not:

Acting with James Franco Episode 3: Scene Work from James Franco

Additionally, I have thankfully found REDDIT: http://www.reddit.com/

The deal with Reddit is this: News articles that completely have no relevance, blow your mind, and make you go "seriously?" And then people comment on them. You can vote it to move up to make it viewed and commented on more. The most respectable thing about Reddit is that it's not Us Weekly readers who comment. It's a fine sector of society who are well read, and most importantly: witty. The comments are my very favorite, in fact.

Lastly, I leave you with my Grade A Emotional Catharsis Site: http://postsecret.blogspot.com/

People mail in an anonymous post card with their secret. New ones are posted each Sunday.

I need to work now. I gave myself until 11pm. It is now 11:12pm, and guilt is setting in. I be also doing weekly newscasts in character starting tomorrow. So stay tuned for that. And future moments of "My Webcam and Me."

Masquerade at the Mansion

So, I've debated to blog or not to blog on this one. But I've decided to blog.

Cue up Saturday night:
Several girlfriends and I prepare to go to what is made out to be an epic party. We were invited for free, although tickets had said going price of $1000. I don't care how epic a party is, unless I'm showing up on a camel to party at some ancient Pharoah's pyramid, that is crazy talk. But I'll be more than happy to attend it.

The theme: Masquerade. Masks required. All men in black, and women in, well, 'something hot'. We show up to said location to show our ID's and get wrist bands. From there we board a bus with several other scantily clad women, men in black suits, and head north. Rounding a corner, and pulling up in front of the Playboy Mansion, I see it lit in all its cheesy glory. Blue, purple lights beam upwards, and we get in line which leads us in.

I notice a small man in front of me in a black blazer. I then notice than no man is that small, or none that I have seen. Yes, it is Verne Troyer (a la Mini Me). No doubt this night could go wrong now. As we enter, they have models posed on a red velvet couch. Trying to be still, I can read the boredom behind their eyes. I have been there, I get it.

We enter into a huge tent, lined with cabanas along the wall. A stage at the very front, dance floor, small bar tables lit up, and full premium open bar. Goodness. As it leads outside to the pool, there is a stone walkway which was the death of me by the end of the night in 3' stilettos, and a full buffet. Realizing I am a.) starving but b.) not wanting to show a food baby quite yet, I hold off while I still have will power.

I hit the dance floor, but honestly could not stop looking around. Women in only, ah, spray paint. Since when did paint become a costume? Several times they would blast some Indian "ohh oww ohh" music and carry out a girl on a glorified stretcher. I couldn't help but laugh. This was too funny to be true.

I ventured outside for a bit, in effort to finally see the grotto. And there it was: it all it's Playboy story glory. Heels were killing, so I took a sit and just observed for a bit. It wasn't until 15 minutes in, I realized I was sitting, alone in the bushes, watching people, and it was time to find my friends. By this time, that buffet was calling my name and I couldn't ignore it. Can't quite be clear on the food exactly, but I do recall it was tastier than imagined. And that I regretted eating all of it once I saw there was a sushi bar.

We departed and hailed a cab after the shuttle dropped us off. Here's when it gets good. My friend hails the cab, and as he pulls over, we begin to get in. Out of no where Sassy Girl tells us it was HER cab and how dare we get in. I say point blankly that my friend hailed it, and everyone can see that. She pushed me. So hard I fell down on the concrete. And then went for my friend's hair. Seriously? Girl fight? I retreat inward, emotionally damaged that a girl would push me down. I should of used my jujitsu. She takes our cab. And we are left dumbfounded, did that just happen?

Yup. Welcome to LA. We take the second cab as bystanders acknowledge the absurdity of Sassy Girl's actions. Whew. I leave, without my mask or full arm black silk gloves, but with my story, and a twinkle in my eye for the rocking chair.

A Store Front Reads:

If only it was that easy.

Unlucky Charms

I was ravenously hungry last night around 1 am, and somehow found myself wandering the 7-11 isles for an obscene amount of time. I acknowledged the cashier was staring at me, curious how one decision could be so impossible to make. But you know when you're so hungry, you could eat everything. Or nothing. You'd hate to make a decision, commit to a sandwich, then be disappointed you didn't choose the KitKat. So after I could feel his eyes burning through my back, I surrendered to the urge of Lucky Charms. It's been about a decade since I had them. Upon reviewing the box, while I inhaled, I was taken back by "game" on the back.

A demon posessed dragon lurks upon the leprechaun, ready to consume him.

This may be the unluckiest leprechaun I've ever seen.


In other news: If you happened to catch 30 Rock tonight, I, Like Liz, left my phone in a cab recently. And he also blackmailed me for it. And now is a better time than ever to tell the story.

After an "eventful" Saturday night out of dancing, bongo drums, champagne, we hailed a cab to take us home.

It was late and I only had debit card for payment. He refused to accept it. I know how these Hollywood cabbies work: they don't get as much tip off cards, so they just say they 'don't accept them.'
I tell him that he better accept it or we will not be paying. It was certainly threatening coming from a slurry blonde in a poofy dress.

He yells at us in broken English to just give him five dollars. It was a heated exchange in two different languages, and so I resign and throw five dollars and hurry out in the heels-I-always-regret-wearing-the-next-day.

As soon as opening my front door, I knew it. Knowing the odds of getting it back, I began to mourn the loss of the beloved blackberry. After two days of various text messages in hopes someone will see it, the Russian Cabbie calls @ 6 am. I answer the phone call on Marcus's phone seeing my name and number flashing. My heart leaps while realizing that at any moment my battery could die and it would be gone forever. High stakes. It's surely a miracle the battery has held on for 2 days. I manage to make out he is "far away but for 65$ could make special trip." I say I don't want to spend 65$. He tells me that will be his fare from where he is. I tell him he is a liar, then quickly take it back knowing he has my heart in his sweaty sausage fingers. Twenty minutes later, I give in to said price of 40$.

I must disguise myself as I wouldn't want him to recognize me from the aforementioned event of the drop off. *cringe* I bust a green beret and bulky jacket. I go into my wallet to get what I thought was 40$, I realize I only have 25$. I call him, explaining what I have, and he tells me I am a liar, and he will now make it 70$ for me to get it back. He asks me to go to ATM for the rest. Heart is racing, tears begin to flow like the Nile. It is 7 am, I am emotionally fragile, and broke. So I try to appeal to his money hungry negotiations. I will come to him wherever his next destination is and still give him 25$. Russian Cabbie then admits he's already here, parked outside. No. Are you kidding me? Blood boils at the fact he would demand 70$, while he waits around the corner. Where are my numb chucks?

I tear downstairs looking in each direction: no sign of cab. In the distance appears a short stubby balding man in a corduroy jacket. Dear sweet blackberry is in his grasp. I begin jogging toward him. He sees my desperation, as I gratefully pass all the cash I have to him and thank him through dramatic gasps of breath. And then, something outrageous happened.

Russian Cabbie hugs me. A dad hug. Not creepy old man hug. He soothes me patting my back saying, "is oh-kay, no worry, no worry." I hug back. We share a moment of silence.
I still can't wrap my mind around how Russian Cabbie morphed from blackmail threats to loving father figure in a matter of minutes. Whatever it's worth, thank you Michael from United Cab for my phone, the hug, and the story of redemption. Maybe you do have a soul after all.

Ninjas aren't always rich

Sure, everyone wants to be a ninja. But it takes fierce concentration, cat like reflexes, and most of all: money.

But now, you too, can be a ninja on a budget.

http://www.wikihow.com/Train-to-Be-a-Ninja-With-a-Low-Budget